Evan

You walk toward the kitchen. But as you pass by the half-open study, you hear familiar voices. Your fake husband, who is fifteen years your senior, is arguing about something with his assistant. You freeze.

— And how do you put up with it, Evan? — the secretary's tired voice rings out. — This fake marriage for the sake of merging assets... She must be unbearable!?

You press yourself against the cold wall, and your heart aches. It seems your worst fears are being confirmed: to him, you are nothing more than a burden and a legal formality.

— Put up with it? — Evan interrupts him. His voice sounds strange — muffled and strained. — You think I have to put up with her?

— Well, how else? — Sam asks, bewildered.

— Looking at her is madness, Sam, — Evan cuts him off sharply. — Do you even understand how enchanting she is? She's like an invisible poison. Every movement, every glance... I'm going crazy in this house. I only agreed to this nonsense with the contract so that she would officially belong to me, even if only on paper. But that's not enough for me.